


preventative measures

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Flirting, Canon Friendly, Curiosity, Cute, Eating, F/M, Fluffy Ending, Food, Guilt, Junk Food - Freeform, Love, Male-Female Friendship, Survivor Guilt, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 10:52:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7615156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skoulson RomFest 2k16 REDUX - DAY 3 · 20 July <br/>feeding Coulson</p>
            </blockquote>





	preventative measures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nausicaa_of_phaeacia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_of_phaeacia/gifts).



“What is this?”

He sounds a little groggy, like he’s still getting his bearings. 

Of course he is, he’s been out for at least eight hours, concentrating on the spot next to him on the mattress with the napkin neatly spread out, and the array of junk food on it, like he’s trying to figure something out.

She looks down at it as well, surprised that’s the first thing to come out of his mouth, then she notices the indentation in the mattress, the sure sign that someone was lying there next to him not too long ago.

Shit.

Thank you, cheap motel mattresses.

“Well,” she says quickly, reaching for the pack of donuts, reaching for humor, and holding both out towards him. “I thought you might be a breakfast-in-bed kind of guy?”

He gives her a bit of a warning look in reply, taking the edge off her cocky tone, and she glances away, then sets the donuts back down and stands up from the edge of the bed.

She can feel his eyes on her, and she starts to think that this might’ve been one of her worst ideas yet.

Running was not a bad idea.  Trying to save him?  She can’t imagine making another choice.  Wanting to see him, though-

Hearing the crinkle of the plastic wrapper, she turns back to find him opening the pack up.

“I wanted to see you. I just didn’t want it to get…complicated,” she blurts out, just as he’s lifting a powdered donut to his mouth.

“So, who drugged me?” he asks, taking a bite.

“Our mutual fanclub did.  I just…,” she hesitates. It’s finally hitting her, what she’s done here. “I _absconded_ with you.”

“ _Absconded_ ,” he nods, mulling it over, while he chews.

It was the Watchdogs, and it was intended for her.  People _like_ her.  With _their_ metabolism.  Which is why he was out longer. 

Which is why she’s been up all night monitoring him, until she fell asleep. _That_ was an accident.

“It attacks Kree DNA,” she tells him. “In Inhumans.  It has no effect on…other people.” 

“Except me,” he answers, and she'd smile at the dusting of powdered sugar on his lips, if he wasn't wearing that expression.

“Yeah.”

He’s obviously followed her eyes, because he takes the back of his hand and wipes across his mouth.

She knows how it effects them.  Not scientifically Like, Fitzsimmons would definitely _not_ approve, but, she’s had to turn her powers on herself before? To keep from losing consciousness after they planted a trap for her.

It hurt like hell, but she survived. She made it out. Others didn't.

“They’ve done this to you?” he asks after he swallows.

He’s caught on, because he always does, but she can hear the anger rising in his voice.

“They’re doing this to Inhumans. Yes.”

And of course he got in between them.  Them and her.  It’s so like Coulson, always trying to get in between things he really has no business-

“Then, I’m glad,” he tells her, staring at her assuredly. “That it was me, this time, and not you.”

Yes, that’s the whole problem, isn’t it?  She presses her lips together, and sits back down on the edge of the bed, further away.

He could’ve _died_.  She’s seen people die.  He’s not Inhuman, or invincible.

“I-“ she pushes the word out, then takes a deep breath. “I think they’re using SHIELD technology.  ICERS, or a modified version of them.”

“Blake,” he says, like he wants the name out of his mouth.   Like it’s somehow connected to him, and he stares at her, for too long.

Then he pushes around the pile of junk food again, considering. “I _am_ a breakfast-in-bed kind of guy,” he concedes, picking up the bottle of iced coffee. Probably not so iced by now.

It gets a small smile out of her.  She wishes this was simple, that she could appreciate it the way she’d like to.  It won’t go anywhere, though.

There’s too much in between them.  There always has been.

“But how did you know that?” he goes on, twisting off the cap, then making a terrible face when he sips.

“I guessed?” she answers, twisting her fingers together. “I’ve had a lot of…time. To think about…” And he meets her eyes expectantly.

“What a _dork_ you are.”

He smiles at that, bashfully, for Coulson.  She _has_ had a lot of time.  To think about things.  And also, about him.

When she looks up again, he’s cataloging her, the way he does, not like he’s profiling her, like he’s trying to piece together all the parts of something.

“Sure, I’m dorky,” he admits, then smirks. “But, that's also a little seventh grade, don’t you think?"

He screws the cap back on the coffee, then stirs a bit, sitting up higher in the bed, pulls his t-shirt down as it starts to ride up above the sheets.

“Have you eaten? Or is this all for me?”

“For you,” she tells him. “I'm not really the breakfast-in-bed type."

“Because you're not, or because you haven't?”

She lifts her teeth off her bottom lip. Kind of a pointed question, from him. This is not the sort of thing they ever talk about. 

She just wanted to see him, not get sucked back in.

But.  Maybe she kind of-

She glances down at the spot on the bed where she’d fallen asleep before.  Thinking about how her whole morning was spent worrying about him, and pushing away feelings about being comfortable and too safe.

“And Funyuns?” he says, lifting the package up to her. “Really?”

Her eyebrows go up, slowly, at the suggestion. “I wanted you to know my intentions were pure,” she answers, swiping them out of his hand.

He gives her another warning look, but it’s different. There’s curiosity mixed in with it, and she’s seen this face before.

Before everything got in between them.  Her past, his past, SHIELD, HYDRA. Her parents. Inhumans. 

It’s a long list.  Mostly her stuff.  His face is enough to make her decide.

“Settle down, charm school,” she tells him, waving at him, as he slides over and moves everything out of the way to make room for her, making a pile in his lap between his knees.

“Charm has nothing to do with it,” he says, settling in, as she sits down on the bed. “I have all the junkfood.”

She finds herself staring too long.  Seeing him this close after being so far apart, and choosing all the little details of why she’s missed him so much.  Wondering why this is happening now.

It’s almost like they’ve started back at the beginning somehow.

“Are you okay?” she asks.  Because she needs to know.  He’s not Inhuman, and, what if that drug did something-

“I have a really terrible headache,” he admits. “And I feel like someone mistook me for Stretch Armstrong?”  He reaches for her hand, and takes the Funyuns out of them. “That’s a _dork_ reference, in case you’re wondering.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.  I’m okay,” he smiles, as his eyes wash over her, breathing in deeply.

She watches as he opens up the bag and takes out a ring, biting into it.

“Preventative measures,” he tells her, with a solemn nod.

Smiling, she bumps her shoulder into his, and reaches down into the bag.


End file.
